


Grasping For the Words

by Eglentyne



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Feel-good, Headcanon, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:30:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eglentyne/pseuds/Eglentyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diederich brings Vincent home and Ciel can’t make sense of why adults act as they do. Pre-canon. Special guest: Sebastian the dog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grasping For the Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stellarlies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarlies/gifts).



> On a number of occasions we have both agreed that Diederich/Vincent/Rachel is the most amazing relationship, and we don't think there's enough fanfic on these three. I've had this idea stewing for several months, and over 8000 words later, here you are. Izzy, you are one of the most obsessed and committed members of the Kuro fandom, te amo con todo del corazon, and I so hope you can read my English!! This is written from Ciel's child perspective and that forces my writing into something less complicated. He does tend to run-on a bit, but it's only because he thinks deeply about things. I'm not sure how old he is in this, maybe 6 or 7. 
> 
> To any German readers: I apologize in advance if I have butchered any of your language, because I tried my very best. German is beautiful to me, and when I started writing Diederich, his German had to peek through a bit, even if he's speaking to a bunch of English folk. To any non-German speakers, translation notes are provided, and I hope you do not find it too much of a distraction.

After so many weeks, or so many months (I can’t remember because any amount of time when you are a child feels like forever), father came home. Mother put on one of her finer parlour dresses to meet him, a breezy sort of ensemble with so many layers of organza. The fabric looked like it was spun of air and spider silk, like invisible faeries held it up, but when I clung to it, the fabric felt too coarse to be such. I believed faeries always followed my mother about, like maybe they lived in her vanity.

When the carriage was spotted mother had me called down from the nursery, and Tanaka carried me down the stairs. I remember my mother never looking more radiant, hair pinned up and yet a few coils graced her shoulders, her skin shining like crushed pearl. Maybe my mother was a faerie queen, maybe we were to stand in the hall to greet her court, and thought to myself what would her subjects like to eat? Would they be small like me? Would they take juice, or milk with honey?

But instead it was Father and Diederich who Tanaka held the door for, two darkened figures who seemed erroneous for this situation, with the light shining through the windows, little dust motes hanging as flecks of magic in the air. I then thought that not all faeries dance on moonlight and create the dew of the morning, that some live in tree hollows, sustained by the roots of the earth. I remembered that I did indeed have a father, that he wasn’t just a figment I saw hanging in the hallways like a captured memory. Maybe in my child mind I had to remember that he was a real person because he staggered toward us, nothing like how he stood tall in paintings. And Diederich appeared as even more elusive, for we had no hallway memories of him, but when mother spoken his name something about how the lilting atmosphere of the foyer shattered, those dust motes whipped in a flurry, and some reality I couldn’t understand gave a hard edge to the situation.

I clung to the organza train of my mother’s dress, willing she stand there and let me hide behind it, that her spider web faerie dress could protect me from these not-quite-strangers entering our home. My father was built as some legend in my mind, because mother had called him “a good man,” and “a great man.” But in that moment he stood hunched and hurting, Diederich’s arm about him to keep him lifted. I saw nothing good or great about this, for he looked not a hero in stories, he looked to be just a man. And maybe that was all my father ever was, just a man, but what child ever wants to believe their father as such?

It seemed a great effort for him to speak my mother’s name, a special and private name that felt foreign to me, because she was always “Mother,” or “Madam,” or “Countess,” and never “Rachel.” But his voice seemed to have a power that equalled her own, for when he spoke my mother’s skirts shuddered and I realised it was because her body trembled underneath them (was my mother ever a physical body of skin and bone?). I looked up to see her bright expression erased and instead mother appeared as a scared girl, the sort of crying a girl does when she’s accidentally smashed her favourite tea pot. And she stepped forward, her arms open to the pair of men, forgetting that she was supposed to stand tall so I could hide behind her.

Mother talked of Father a lot when he was not there, how he is sent to faraway places in honour of Her Majesty. “The Underworld,” sounded like some mysterious place, like perhaps my father was as a knight of Her Majesty that slayed those monsters I read in faerie tales, that he brought justice and light to the Queen’s Realm. But I watched as Mother crooned underneath Father, lifting his chin and wanting to help support him, her words to this Diederich muddled by tears, and I thought, this is not how knights and soldiers come home. They sit tall on larger than life steeds, crowned by a shower of stars and swords gleaming like sunbeams, not this shuffling figure in a black travelling cloak.

Amidst all their prattling which I couldn’t really make sense of, one word stood out to me quite clearly, the name “Russia,” which I knew to be a very real place, for I could find it on a map. I thought of all the things I knew about Russia, that it was very far away from England, that it was a very large country, larger than England, but they have a royal family too, just as England has. So this couldn’t have been some fantastical place that my father had gone to, not some mysterious dark land of Fae like I had been led to believe, unless Russia is a place of faeries and monsters. It appeared big on the map, so perhaps it would be big enough to fit an Underworld, unlike Great Britain, which seemed small by comparison.

I had been pulling on my mother’s skirts as I thought of all this and finally she remembered me again and said through sniffling, “Aren’t you going to welcome your father home, Ciel?”

No, I hadn’t really planned to say much of anything if I could help it, but Mother had expressed some gentle expectation that it would be appropriate to give a greeting. “Welcome home, Father,” I murmured. I couldn’t smile, nor could I look at the dark circles under his eyes but for a moment.

“Ciel, my boy.” And the sound of his voice felt familiar, the voice that had read me stories once. He shoved away the arm that was Diederich’s and collapsed to my level, grabbing me out of the folds of Mother’s dress and holding me close. And it was the smell of shaving soap, and starch, and wool, and gun powder that felt even more familiar. He had been gone so long that I had forgotten his smell, and what it felt like to be held safe by him. And I clung to his neck and I heard myself saying, “Papa,” which was followed by a burst of tears, and I was more surprised to be feeling a need to cry. So I cried harder in the hopes someone would tell me what it was I was feeling.

“Oh Ciel, I missed you too, I missed you so very much, and I’m so happy to be home.” Father was almost on the floor, on his knees lifting me. I felt him kiss my hair, and I thought I never want him to leave like this again, to leave for so long that I could forget all the things that make my father a real person. Then mother was on the floor, organza crowding me and suffocating us both, and I had the impression that she had known the entire time, known some dark secret, because adults lie by telling me only half-truths. She had known there was a possibility that Father might not have made it home. She would have me believe him to be some shining and unreachable knight of the Realm, in favour of the truth of him. She would have me forget the voice that told me stories and the hands that made me feel safe. This made me cry harder.

Father wanted to lift me up and gather all of me into his arms, but I heard him hiss in pain, then Diederich was helping him to his feet as Mother made frantic inquiries about Father’s condition. Diederich, tall, bulky, with his foreign accent and deep-set eyes, made my father look willowy by comparison. He said something about “still recovering,” but from what I could not understand. Father held to his side as he straightened up, and Mother could not stop thanking Diederich for bringing “Vincent” home, another foreign name that made Father all the more human. She wiped her eyes before picking me up and asked me, “Do you remember Diederich, sweetie? He was at the Christmas party last year, he brought you that rocking horse, all the way from Germany.”

I loved that rocking horse, I had two in the nursery and I never let my cousin ride it. I made her ride the other one that was painted white. She wasn’t allowed to sit on the one Diederich had made special for me, because I liked the painting on it, these little flourishes of gold on its green saddle, and its glass eyes set in mahogany. It looked to have real horse hair in the mane and tail and that made it feel all the more real to me, like the power of the animal rested somewhere in the wood of that rocking horse. That maybe at some dark hour of the night when I was asleep it became a real horse. So that was how I thought of Diederich, a silent man as hard as mahogany, but there could be a gentleness that unfolded before me if I just smiled at him.

It was hard to smile for all the tears still in my eyes and I kept wiping my face because I wanted to match the hardness I saw in him. But I was small in every way and that can be frustrating for a boy who looks up to strong men. Through my sniffling I asked, “Did you bring Father home, Dee?” He nodded, and something about his stoic expression suggested that Father wouldn’t have gotten home to us if it wasn’t for him. And I sobbed some more, not knowing a better way to express my relief, that I had no way to say thank you to a man who never needed my appreciation. But he pulled me out of my mother’s arms, “Da, now, shush, you make your mother cry, be a strong lad for your mother. And your father has a gift for you. So no more tears, yah?” It felt really important to follow Diederich’s suggestion, so I squinted back my sobs and nodded. And I understood why men will nod in silence because it’s a lot easier to hold back tears that way.

Father instructed Tanaka to get something from the carriage, something “has a lead,” which I couldn’t understand what he meant by that. But it seemed to have Mother in a tiff because she was now asking quite a lot of questions and Father saying he couldn’t possibly turn it down.

There was a yipping noise and quite a lot of commotion from outside, Tanaka yelling something like “inu” but Tanaka would say strange things when he was flustered. Out of nowhere my father made a loud whistling sound that caused me to jump and cover my ears. Before I saw it I heard a skipping noise in the foyer and over the tiles a mass of black skidded before us and Mother shrieked.

My father had brought home a dog. Not like any dog I had seen, like one of the friendly Beagles with its big eyes, or the Spaniels with their floppy ears, or a Terrier with its snub little tail. This dog looked built like a greyhound, but shaggier. Father said, “still a puppy,” but it looked far too big like any puppy I had seen. The too-large puppy tried to jump on Mother who looked like she wanted nothing to do with it Father said something in a language I had never heard and the dog immediately heeled before him, his long snout resting between his paws as he looked up in unwavering adoration. I understood that kind of adoration and thought if the dog knew it, then surely it was a beast to be trusted.

But Diederich put me down before I was really comfortable being on the same level as this dog and he lifted his head at the sight of me. His curiosity overrode anything my father could tell him and he sat up to sniff at me. Something in his eyes told me he noticed I was really weary of his attention, and father said, “He won’t bite, he just wants to get to know you.”

I reasoned the best way to get to know someone is to exchange names. “I’m Ciel, doggie.” And I patted his head because that seemed like an appropriate handshake. He got more excited to receive some affection and he licked my hand. A dog had never licked my hand before, and I reasoned there was no harm in it, but I thought it was a silly thing to want to do so I giggled. “What’s your name, doggie?” I inquired like he would tell me.

“His name is Sebastian,” said Father.

“ _Unsinn_[1] name for a dog,” Diederich said. He folded his arms like he didn’t much care for it. Despite how he peppered his conversations with German, it never felt impossible to understand. It was almost like English didn’t always have the right words for what he felt he meant.

“No, a noble name for a noble dog.” Father reached for Sebastian and he immediately wagged his tail, whimpering like he couldn’t contain his love for my father. I related. “Rachel, the boy needs a dog.” I didn’t know I needed a dog, but now that Sebastian was there, I certainly thought I could get used to him.

Mother nodded in silence, and I knew that when Mother did that it meant something different from how the men meant it. She didn’t like the idea one bit.

* * *

Mother never referred to Sebastian as such, preferring to call him “that dog,” which when Father went to his bedroom to sleep, and he slept like he was ill, Sebastian insisted on staying by his side. Tanaka mentioned something like, “loyal,” and I thought this was a good quality for an animal to have, that a dog could be loyal to my father just like my mother was loyal to him, and I didn’t understand why Mother couldn’t see it.

I was told to not disturb Father, and the blackout curtains were sent to my parents’ bedroom so he could sleep like it was night time. I didn’t understand why he was ill, but I remembered that his face had looked so haggard and I saw Tanaka leave the room with a medical kit. When I asked if Father was sick, he smiled down at me and assured me that he was going to be okay after a few days of rest. I trusted Tanaka with this information and knew that if he didn’t have to send for my aunt then it couldn’t have been that serious.

But I always had to remind myself that adults tell me lies, that when they say “not that bad” it probably is that bad and they don’t want me worrying. I could not recall a time when Father slept in the day, so I reasoned he really needed some time to mend because he was in a frightful condition. I could think of all the times when I too was quite ill, but I could get better in time. My father was stronger than me, so if I could recover in a few days, so could he.

I wondered what his affliction might be, so I went in search of my mother because maybe she would tell me if I asked enough questions before she would tell me to stop. She wasn’t in the lady’s parlour, because she would only ever be in there if she had guests.  Diederich had been set up in one of the guest rooms, his luggage brought in from the carriage, but men never enter the lady’s parlour, they had to be in some different room. Diederich wasn’t the sort of guest to be seated in the front parlour, so they had to be further in the manor, and sure enough I found them in the sun room. It’s the round room that leads into the garden, with the parquet floor and all the box plants and the green walls. Father liked that room very much, and I remembered Diederich sitting with him a couple times, only this time he sat at a spindly table with Mother instead, full tea before them. And I heard her say “that dog” again.

When I let myself in the two adults straightened up at the sight of me, and I wondered what they had been whispering about. They wanted to keep secrets from me again, I knew it. I came to the table and asked to sit, and Mother’s response was that I go back to my nursery.

“Ist fine, Rachel, he is a good boy, well-behaved, right, Ciel?” Diederich leaned back in his chair, watching me climb into mine. He could fill up any space, if not in size then in presence. He took another sandwich off the tier set before them. “Would you like one, young man?”

“Yes please.”

He complimented my mother for my good behaviour. That I had grown so much since he last saw me. I could not confirm or deny that. I ate in silence, listening to adults talk. Diederich explained that the dog was a Romanov gift. He kept referring to it as “Borzoi” which I thought was a funny word to call a dog, but then maybe these Romanov people would think “Spaniel” is a funny name to call a dog. But Borzois are known for being fast runners, Diederich said, that he needs wide open spaces to run, and we had plenty of that. Mother didn’t like the idea of the dog being in her bedroom. She inquired if he was “trained,” to which Diederich said, “yes,” and went on to explain it is a breed trained from a very early age, that these dogs are meant to be as disciplined as their owners.

I assumed by “owners” he meant adults, and I thought it was strange that we could look at people as being “trained.” But then I remember how Diederich had directed comment of my manners to her, not to me, and wondered if mother was training me in some way. I didn’t much care for that thought.

So I spoke out of turn. “Mother, I think you should give Sebastian a chance. He’s with Father right now, making sure he gets better. And is Father really all right?”

Mother looked none too pleased. She had not asked for my opinion. She did not need me to state what she already knew. And she did not care for my questions. “Ciel, now is not the time—”

And it was always like this in the presence of adults, they never wanted to explain things to me or entertain my conversation. “Mother, will Father be well tomorrow? Will he tell me more about Sebastian?”

I had interrupted her and she wanted to dismiss me from the table. But Diederich told her I was just “wilful, like Vincent,” and I felt appreciative someone would stand up for me. He rested his elbow on the table as he crouched lower. “Ciel, the dog your father brought home is a gift of good will from some of the royals in Russia. There is no other dog like this in all of England, worth more than even the Queen’s lapdog, very special, you understand?” I set down my sandwich and nodded. “And your father is not sick. He was injured because Her Majesty had an assignment for him, it was not without risk. I could not imagine him doing this alone.”

“What did he have to do, sir?” I asked.

Diederich sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. He wasn’t going to tell me, but instead of the usual, “you’re too young to understand,” I was so used to hearing, he said, “I do not think it is my place to say. Maybe one day your father will tell you. But for now, be happy that your father made it home mostly safe.” And I appreciated that response more than anything.

Poor Mother seemed close to tears once more. Perhaps she knew more than I and I didn’t like to see her so upset. From behind her napkin she said, “Ciel, would you be so kind to excuse me and Diederich? Up to the nursery with you.” I responded with politeness, and she wasn’t in a state to be patient with me so I made no fuss about being sent away before I finished my sandwich (Tanaka would bring me some in the nursery anyway). But I did hang back behind the door, peering through the crack and pretending I was invisible because when you pretend such the adults really can’t bother to notice you.

Mother sobbed into her napkin some more, and Diederich did something I had never seen him do. He touched my mother. It was a familiar, comforting sort of touch, a hand on her shoulder. No one ever touches my mother, and only Father may touch her in private situations. But I suppose with Tanaka out of the room this would be considered a private situation, even if I was looking in on it.

He was trying to temper his gruff voice into something reassuring, but nothing he was saying was making it any better. And when she blindly reached out for him he took her soft hand in both of his. “ _Bitte_[2], forgive me, I did everything I could, and broke my promise, I am so sorry, Rachel, _meine Schuld_[3].” I wondered what promise he had broken, and if it was something he had made to Mother specifically.

“No, no, Dee, you can’t blame yourself, please.” She laid her other hand over his. “I know you would do anything to protect him. I know you. You were there for him. We all knew this would be dangerous. I didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to imagine...” and she started crying again as soon as Diederich wrapped his thick arms around her frail shoulders, making hushing noises but I wondered if it was also to hush himself.

“I was so afraid, Rachel.” They both stood from their chairs, embracing like I had never seen two people embrace, showing vulnerability and hurt like I could feel, or maybe a deeper hurt than I could understand. To see two adults this frail made me afraid. What sort of horror could they be possibly talking about?

“I know, but you brought him home.” And Mother lifted her face to look at his, holding to his cheek in that way she does when she looks at Father. “Do not think I would have preferred him well and whole at the expense of you. Because I feared losing you both.”

It took a moment for me to register that Diederich had actually kissed my mother, not in a family sort of way, not even in the way Father kisses her. Father’s kisses were sweet pecks, little puckered lips tapping the corner of her mouth. Diederich looked as if he wanted to devour my mother, how he lifted her on her toes and opened his mouth against hers. I wasn’t sure if she wanted it or not because she writhed against him, but with her hands on his back he moaned. I felt I was looking on something I ought not to see but I couldn’t pull myself away, like a weight in my stomach had dropped and anchored me to my spot.

* * *

I wondered if Father knew. I wondered if it would have been my place to bring it to his attention, but then considered adults always keep secrets from me, and here I had a secret to keep from them. So I decided to hold onto it. I wanted to think about it for a little while anyway.

I concluded that Mother had indeed wanted to be kissed like that by Diederich because they continued smiling at each other for the rest of the day. There were no more tears from her, and she was back to her glowing, vibrant faerie queen self, floating about the manor. And Diederich seemed to love that about her just as much as I did, calling her “ _Blondine_[4]” as he stroked at her curls. I wondered if he would display that sort of affection for her if Father were out and about to see it.

But I didn’t give it too terrible much thought because as soon as Father slept a full day and night Sebastian was scampering about his heels just as excited to see him awake. At the sight of me he licked my face and I called him a “good dog,” because my Mother wouldn’t call him such. I liked to stroke his black hair, and I found underneath it all he was a rather slender animal, like how a horse is a large animal but has slender legs. Even Sebastian’s dog face had a perplexing slimness to it.

Father opened the door for Sebastian and he took off, jumping over the garden hedge and running far out to the tree line. He gave a great whistle that echoed against the stone of the manor and Sebastian came hurdling back. I thought he would crash into us but he came to a complete stop, panting and looking quite pleased with himself.

I played a sort of hide and seek game in the garden with Sebastian. I couldn’t keep up with him by any means, I couldn’t imagine a person who would be able to, but he certainly had a time traipsing through the maze trying to sniff me out. He found me every time, outran me every time, but he seemed to take a liking to this game we were playing. Soon I became winded, and mother had always told me to never over-exert myself. Sebastian took off into the woods and I decided to go sit at the wooden gazebo closer to the rose garden.

I found the gazebo was already occupied. Diederich sat sideways on a bench, and in his lap laid my father, dozing with his head resting on the man’s tummy, arms wrapped around him like he was a pillow. Diederich looked out over the landscape, absently stroking my father’s hair and I thought this scene to be even more bizarre than when I had seen him with Mother. Was he petting my father? Did he actually enjoy that sort of attention?

But I wanted to inquire about this, and how that might relate to what I saw him do with Mother yesterday. He spotted my approach and made a “shh,” gesture, pointing to my father, “Sleeping, _wecken_[5] him not.”

Father stirred and moaned and I actually didn’t want to disturb him if he was still asleep so I fled behind a shrub. I heard him say, “Dee... you woke me. I said to sit still.”

I peered through the branches. “ _Dein Sohn hat uns gesehen_[6],” Diederich said in a gruff voice. He glanced in the direction of my shrub. He probably knew I was still there.

“Did he now? Let him see.”

“Vincent,” Diederich tried to pry Father off of him, but instead opted to turn his face away. “You send your son a bad message with this.”

“Praytell, what message is that?” Father propped his chin on Diederich’s chest. I had never seen him even this close with Mother. “All we are doing is lounging on the gazebo. And you are so very comfortable to lounge upon.”

“But he doesn’t need to see it. Maybe with your wife, but not me.”

“Rachel can’t stand to just sit and let me sleep on her lap like this. She doesn’t stroke my hair like you do.” Father pulled himself closer into Diederich, and in response he grunted and clung to my father’s shoulders like he was trying to restrain him. But the way knees were lifted, the way Diederich’s back arched, there was far more going on here than I could understand, and something in the pit of me fluttered.

“You know what I mean, Vincent.”

“No, I really don’t share in your feeling of shame. Now, let me sleep again, your presence soothes me.” And as they both eased into a reclining position, Diederich pulled my father over top of him, kissing the crown of his head, and lacing their fingers, palm to palm.

* * *

The more I thought on that situation, the more I realised I hadn’t seen Father and Mother hold each other like that. But it was not as if they didn’t love each other, for every day I had heard Mother talk about Father, how much she loved him, how she missed him. I had always thought of Diederich as being like a brother and a friend of my father, but they certainly weren’t acting like it. I wouldn’t expect Father to want to nap with any other man like that, but he made it out to be such a normal thing for them. I knew the comfort of sleeping with another person, because almost every night Father was gone I would sleep with Mother. There were times when she would wake me in the night, carry me out of my bed to sleep in hers, just so she wouldn’t be alone. We both slept more fitfully this way.

When we all sat down for dinner in the evening, I listened quietly again for some snippet of conversation that would clue me into the questions I had, if Mother knew of them napping on the gazebo, of Father knowing how they had kissed. But they spoke of nothing of importance, typical boring adult conversations. I wanted to interject something, but I couldn’t think of what I wanted to say without giving away that I already knew about something.

When dinner was over I was ushered upstairs and bathed and set into sleeping clothes. Mother came up to read me a story and I asked, “Where’s Father?”

“He’s with Diederich, probably in the smoking lounge.”

“Why?”

“...Because that’s what men do after dinner.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, when he’s home he usually reads to me.”

“Maybe tomorrow night, dear.”

I didn’t have much interest in the story she read me, so I feigned sleep so she would put out the light and leave sooner. And at some point I did eventually doze off, sleeping for some undetermined amount of time. When I woke it was still dark, and the clock in the hall read quarter past midnight. I crept across the rug of the hall. To the end was my parent’s room, and when I went to turn the handle I felt it was locked.

This door was never locked.

I put my ear to the keyhole and heard some faint rustling, maybe a whisper. They must have had a reason to lock the door and I wasn’t really inclined to figure out why.

But I wanted someone to put me back to sleep, and if Mother and Father weren’t going to do it, perhaps Diederich would. His door was unlocked, but when I went in I discovered the room unoccupied. His trunk was propped to the side, but the bed had not been slept in.

“Young master, you really shouldn’t be out of bed at this hour.” Tanaka had come up from behind and startled me, caught me looking through another person’s things. But instead of reprimanding me he held out his hand and gestured that I follow him back to my bedroom.

“Ojii-san,” this was a name Tanaka had encouraged me to use for him when I was a child, “why would Dee be in my parent’s bedroom?”

He lifted the covers up, tucking me firmly into them. “Young man, we do not question the things people will do behind the privacy of closed doors. For our private worlds do not exist for anyone else but ourselves.”

“Do you say that because you think I’m too young to understand?”

“I say it because it is none of your business and you’re old enough to respect that.”

Tanaka had a way of explaining things that made perfect sense with the least amount of information.

* * *

When the adults spoke of Diederich having to leave for Germany, they said it tersely, which made me think none of them wanted it. And if none of them wanted it, then it made me wonder why Diederich would have to leave at all, for the manor had plenty of space for him to stay, even if he only used his guest room a couple times that week. When mother said to Diederich, “I wish you could stay longer,” and father said, “We are less lonely with you around,” I wondered why adults didn’t simply make things happen how they would like.

I asked Diederich why he had to go back to Germany and he stated, “That is where my home is. I have responsibilities at home. I have obligations to other people.”

Were these people more important than my mother and father? “What would these other people do if you decided to make your home here?”

Diederich sighed. I was sitting on his lap and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to find some answer to cater to me. “It would be very selfish. Do you know what selfish means?”

I considered this. “Believing that your wants are more important than others.”

“And there are times when we have to be selfish, Ciel. I have reasons why I want to go home, and reasons why I don’t. It is less selfish to leave than to stay. Do you understand?” As he asked he bounced his knee a bit as though to rattle the point into me and I nodded automatically.

In truth I didn’t have much understanding at all.

And I watched the three of them in the foyer as Diederich’s carriage stood in the drive, his trunk already hoisted to the top of it. Their hugs looked stiff and reserved, mother’s words hushed, father’s grin strained.

He pulled Diederich into a hard embrace, and Mother held to Diederich’s shoulder. For the briefest moment I saw something melt in the man’s hard features and he whispered to Father, “ _Sie schenken mir so viel Liebe, es ist schmerzhaft_.[7]”

Father held to the back of the man’s neck. “So you would object if I paid you a visit? Maybe next month? If I’m not on assignment?”

Diederich looked to my mother and she said hastily, “We discussed it earlier. I don’t mind, if he’s not gone for too long.”

“You will come too, _mein Blondine_?” Diederich reached for my mother, as my father still held to him, like he was torn between giving his attention between the pair of them. Mother shook her head. She never travelled, and my memories of her had always been domestic. Maybe she would unravel if she strayed too far from home, like the magic that held her up was tied to the manor and she couldn’t exist outside of her small kingdom.

Hearing that Mother could not visit seemed to cause Diederich more pain. He looked down and mumbled, “It is time for me to go.” He released my parents and turned, no “goodbye,” or “ _auf Wiedersehen_ ” or any such. And he hadn’t said any parting words to me. As he passed through the front door I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t get down the stairs quick enough. As I came to the bottom of the landing my father was already flying down the flagstone entrance, holding to his side as he crashed into Diederich at the carriage. I managed to run to the doorway and while I was already out of breath, my father seemed more so.  Diederich said, “ _Nein, nein,_ you’re hurting, Vin—”

“I don’t care, the pain in my heart is worse.”

And as they kissed with Diederich pulling at the carriage door mother said to me “Come away, Ciel,” and I felt her hands on my shoulders, pushing me into Tanaka’s arms. I protested going back up to the nursery and soon I was crying like Mother. I stopped wriggling as Tanaka carried me up the stairs, but I looked over his shoulder to see my father at the entrance once more, holding tight to my mother as she sobbed into his chest.

I was deposited in my nursery and Tanaka closed the door on me so I could work through my tantrum, for I couldn’t understand why I was so angry and that made me want to cry harder. I pushed over the rocking horse Diederich gave me because I was upset he hadn’t said goodbye to me, and that he would make my parents so upset. From crashing onto the floor its ear chipped, and that brought on a fresh wave of weeping.

Was my father really going to leave us so soon? Did my mother cry because Diederich left, or because Diederich could take my father from her too? I pulled the heavy rocking horse back up and climbed on top of it, feeling bad that I had hurt it. I rocked back and forth as an apology, and thought about these things, and concluded I didn’t have all the information to understand what Diederich meant to Mother and Father. I knew that if I went to someone with tears in my eyes they would just coddle me, shush me, return me to my nursery and not care to give me any real answers, so I took the time I needed to collect myself. A little while later Tanaka came back with lunch and that helped to set me right too. He smiled and told me he was relieved to know I was feeling better, which I was.

“Where is Father?” I asked when he came back for my tray.

“In his study, but he may not want to be bothered.”

“I want to speak to him.”

“You’re welcome to try, but do not be upset if he sends you away.” This was always the way when father was in his study, for he did important work in there. Or maybe he needed space to concentrate on something he considered important. But sometimes he would sit at his desk and talk to me if he was not too preoccupied. I decided to take my chances.

My knocking on the door to his study was faint and he answered, “Come in, Ciel,” because he could recognize such a sound. He was not at his desk, but rather lounged in a chair with a book on his lap. Sebastian lay on the rug in front of him, and at the sight of me lifted his head and wagged his tail.

I stood at the doorway. “Can we talk?”

“Certainly.” He closed his book and gestured to the chair situated on the other side, the small table between us laid with tea. After hoisting myself into the chair he offered me a biscuit, but I shook my head because I didn’t want food preventing me from asking questions.

“Father,” I wanted to cut to the chase, “do you love Diederich the same way you love Mother?”

“My goodness, Ciel, that’s a very big question.” He got up to close the door, as I had not bothered to close it behind me. He chuckled as he returned to his seat, holding his forehead. “Do I love Diederich the same way I love your mother?” he repeated more to himself it seemed. Maybe he needed a minute to think about it, so I remained patient as I watched him look at the ceiling. “If your mother knew you were pondering these things...”

“I think Mother keeps a lot of things from me.”

“That she does. She just wants to see you happy.”

“Her lying about things doesn’t make me very happy. Like how I didn’t know where you were going could be unsafe, Father. I didn’t know you were going to come back hurt.”

“I’m sorry for that, Ciel.” His expression seemed sincere. “But I’m on the mend.”

I looked to the side he was clutching to earlier. “I want to believe you. But you looked to be in a lot of pain when you ran to Dee.” I turned away. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you kiss Mother like that.”

There was silence, and when I peered up again, Father had a hand over his face and he was... bright red. I don’t think I had ever seen him with that expression before or since. “You’re too smart for your own good, son.”

I thought about that comment, like maybe he was paying me a compliment, but instead I thought that maybe he was saying it because for a moment he looked really pensive, like I had said something that he found threatening. He crossed his legs, holding his chin as he did when he thought deeply about something, and I knew not to say anything more when he was thinking. Finally, he leaned over, the seriousness gone.

“I love your mother, and I love Diederich, and I love them both in very different ways.”

“Who do you love more?” I countered.

“Oh Ciel, you can’t quantify how much you love a person.”

“Quantify?”

“Set a value to.” He held up his hands like he was holding something invisible between them. “Like I can’t say I love your mother this much,” and he widened his hands, “or Diederich this much. Because I don’t love your mother less than Diederich, or vice versa. And if anyone were to ask me ‘how much?’ the best estimation I can give is... more than my heart can hold.”

I thought about that and considered it made sense, because I could not say I loved my father more than my mother, or the other way around. It’s not like I would want to choose between the two because I loved them both, in different ways for different reasons. So I reasoned it couldn’t be that much different for my father’s case. But then the way I loved Father and Mother was not the same way he loved my mother and Diederich. Because he did say we can love different people in different ways. “So... how does your love for Mother differ from your love for Diederich?”

“That’s not an easy question.” I wanted to counter that I disagreed, but maybe it very well could be a hard question for Father. Then again, I noticed that adults tend to make things hard and complicated for themselves when the plain truth was usually pretty simple. “I love your mother... for her patience, and her kindness. And I love that she had you, my son. Without her, we wouldn’t be a family, and I love that. I love this family, I’m happy to be a part of it, to be your father. Your mother is a beautiful woman, a smart woman, and she has been doing a fine job of raising you when I’m not around. And believe me when I say I need her by my side as my wife.

“But when I say my love for Diederich is different... I can’t love him the same way I love your mother. But we understand each other... in a way your mother and I never will.”

“Is it because she is a girl?” I straightened up, thinking this was the most obvious difference between them, that Mother was a woman, Diederich a man and of course men understand each other better than they do women.

“You know what? I think that has a lot to do with it. But can I divulge a secret to you?” And he wagged his finger to me as if to tell me to come closer. “Any man will tell you that his wife is his whole heart, his one and only, but there are some cases where that is simply not true. And if I were to say your mother is my one and only, that I have eyes for no other, I would be lying. We can make a bold-faced lie to others, no problem, but when we lie to ourselves, that hurts.

“But because I love you, and when we love others we are open and honest... I can tell you the truth. Your mother understands, and I guarantee you the way she loves Diederich is not the same way she loves me. And the same goes for Diederich. I have known him longer than I’ve known your mother, Dee and I grew up together, and I only knew your mother for a short time before I married her. Must I stop loving Diederich because I love your mother? No, of course not.”

I thought about this for a moment. I thought about if loving Diederich for longer would be a reason why my mother could be upset. I thought of how everyone knew and understood my parent’s marriage, but how many could possibly know the depth of which my father loved Diederich? “So is Diederich meant to be a secret?”

“Yes, Ciel. All anyone ever needs to know is that he is a good family friend.”

“If they knew anything more, what would happen?”

“Let’s not consider that.” Maybe that was the “shame” I had heard him and Diederich mention on the gazebo. And in a flash of understanding, I realised... my father loved Diederich in a way that others would consider reserved for only a husband and a wife.

Father lowered his head. “I should not be proud. Sometimes I wonder if I can be a good role model for you. Sometimes I wish... Diederich didn’t have to be so... essential. For me. Sometimes I wish your mother could be enough, and sometimes I wonder if I’m selfish.” That word, so father considered that maybe he was putting his wants before others. But I was having trouble seeing that.

“I don’t think you’re selfish, Father.” I held my hands in my lap as I tried to choose my words carefully, because I wanted him to know that I understood. “I think if we have a choice between loving one person or two people, we would always choose two because... because...” I felt like the idea was slipping from me, “when you have more people to love... it’s like you have more.”

I balled my fists because it wasn’t coming to me right but father’s eyes lit up. He slid out of his chair and knelt on the floor in front of me. Sebastian stood up at this action too, bounding back and forth at the excitement in my father’s voice. “You’re right, you’re so right, my clever boy, because it is so true!” He pulled me into a warm hug. “Because that is the great discovery I’ve made in all this. That I love your mother more for having a chance to love Dee... and she has come to love him too. Ciel, there is some miracle at work, that this scarcity of love in the world is such an illusion, because it is not a limited thing we have to divide amongst those we love. The more people we have to love the more love we have to give them. And you understand that!” His eyes went glassy and his voice pitched. “Please, forgive your sentimental father...” He bent his head as he pressed his fingers to his eyes, and in some way, sitting on the floor in front of me, I considered that maybe he was still quite young, in his own way. I forgot, adults had to have been children at some point, and just maybe the years he had spent as a youth still counted higher than his adult ones.

I tried to pull his hands away from his face. “Father, do you cry because you miss Dee?”

“Yes, that’s one reason.” There had to be more reasons for Father to cry, but maybe there were moments when he too couldn’t put to words all of what he felt. “But you know, I have your mother, and I have you, growing to become such a clever and thoughtful young man, so I’m not lonely. I just wish he was here too. Maybe that really does make me selfish.”

“I don’t think so.” I concluded that when my mother had said Father is “a great man,” she was speaking a perfect, honest truth, and great men couldn’t be selfish in an awful way.

“Well, I’m glad.” And he smiled knowing I could think well of him. “I ought to go find your mother.” He stood up and took a deep breath. “Ciel, how about you take Sebastian outside? He looks a little wound up. Go play in the garden for a spell while the weather’s still nice.”

That seemed like a perfectly good idea because I had been fidgeting in my seat for a while. When I opened the back door to the garden Sebastian bolted onto the lawn. He looped around the greenhouse and raced back to me and in an effort to keep up I forgot what had me so troubled about Mother and Father in the first place.

* * *

Translations:

[1] “Unsinn”means “nonsense” or “rubbish,” so he considers Sebastian to be a silly name for a dog.

[2] “Bitte” as in, “please, I beg,”

[3] “Meine Schuld,” meaning “my fault.”

[4] I considered Diederich would give Rachel such a nickname, and think her blonde hair to be one of her best features.

[5] “wecken” sounds too much like “awaken” and it was one of those instances where Dee would easily slip into German.

[6] “Your son has seen us.”

[7] “You (as in both of you) bestow upon me so much love that it is painful.”  

**Author's Note:**

> One of my very earliest memories of my dad was him coming home from a military cruise. I might have been about three years old, and it was late at night. He looked like a stranger to me, standing in the doorway to my room. I think he might have been on the Lincoln at the time. 
> 
> This story speaks to a lot of deep, personal aspects about me. I think my love for my father is reflected in this, and the pride he has for me brings tears to his eyes. A lot of my ideas about love and relationships are also wrapped up in this story. Maybe because I dream of relationships like this, the impossible ones where people don't feel jealous, or resentful, or inadequate, or ashamed. 
> 
> Placing all three of them in this situation has me thinking,  
> Do Vincent and Diederich begin to feel something for each other as far back as Weston?  
> Why does Vincent choose Rachel over Angelina? Is it because she feels more gracious and agreeable?  
> Does Diederich attempt to sever romantic involvement with Vincent in honor of his marriage?  
> How does Rachel feel towards Diederich? How does that relationship differ from the one she has with her husband?  
> Is Vincent truly a selfish person? In what way would a type of selfishness lead to a situation that benefits everyone? 
> 
> A marriage between Vincent and Rachel feels flat, too steady and immobile to find any compelling story. But when you throw Diederich into the middle of it? All kinds of amazing character traits surface for all three of them. Rachel's softness and reserved patience takes on a whole new depth. Diederich has a wealth of contradictions when it comes to the principles he espouses, versus his actions. Vincent shows rebellion, but it's tempered by his value for what is most important to him. With characters like that, there's a story worth writing about. And you best believe it will have all the smut. Oh yes. 
> 
> So leave a review, tell me what you think of this poly-ship. Did you cry? Would you care to see more of these three, maybe not from a child's perspective? *wink*


End file.
